Between right and wrong
by TheAwesomeGeek
Summary: When you want to go back to the world you have left, but don't know how to get there, what do you do? Valentine x Helena Rated T just in case.


_This is a remake of an old fanfiction I had posted on here but never finished. _

_Decided to tidy it up a bit, change some details, etc, and to repost it now. _

_Oh, I almost forgot. I own nothing but my own imagination and all that jazz._

_~TheAwesomeGeek_

* * *

><p>Stars fall down<p>

When you want to go back to the world you have left, but don't know how to get there, what do you do?

Helena had the circus, she had her mother, her father, and well… she had 'Valentine'. But it didn't feel right. The circus was her parents dream, not hers. Of course, she loved them and everything, and it was fun, but it wasn't what she wanted to do with her life. And 'Valentine', well, he just wasn't a Valentine. He was sweet, kind, and rather fun at times, but Valentine was so much more. Valentine was sassy, and stubborn, and full of crazy ideas.

Helena missed him.

Helena didn't want to live a normal life anymore. She had always wanted something else, and she assumed that something was the normal life she had never had. Now she found out it wasn't. After the whole thing with her mother and the dream, she had found somewhere she really felt at home. The Mirrorworld. It was her world, and she wanted to go back.

Sadly, she couldn't. It was her parents. She couldn't just leave them without a warning. That, and she didn't know how to get back.

So, every day she would go to the circus, perform and smile, talk to 'Valentine' and the others. And at the end of the night she would go back to the trailer, lie in her bed as she made something new for Mirrorworld. That was the thing, there was a lot of rebuilding to do, since most of her drawings had mysteriously burned up that night while she was sleeping on the balcony. Probably just a light bulb that had exploded or something…

The same routine, over and over again, day after day, until one day it all happened again. It had been a spectacular show, they drew in more audience every time, and exhausted and happy Helena was walking towards the trailers while telling her father a riddle. They didn't even notice before they heard the shouts, which only made things worse for both of them afterwards. She was lying there in the dressing room, pale and barely breathing.

"Mom!"

"They said they had gotten all of it!"

Morris, Helena's father, was sitting in the sofa, with his head in his hands like he could make the whole world disappear by keeping it there, while his daughter stood on the other side of the table, shouting and with tears streaming down her face. It just wasn't fair! Not again.

"They thought they did." His voice sounded hollow. He sighed and got up, embraced his daughter as she shook, a silent tear running down his cheek.

"But… They removed it! They said they removed it!" Helena was in shock. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry, or be mad, or just be empty.

"I know, Bambino, I know."

"This… This is all my fault!" she managed to get out between the sobs. "I wanted to leave, and now she is sick again. If she dies it's all my fault!"

Her father took her by the shoulders and pushed her away so he could look at her. He looked so serious and so sad, Helena stopped crying for a moment.

"Don't you dare say that. These things happen, and nothing I, you or anyone else has said, could have done anything about it. So there's no point in you blaming yourself."

Helena could see the tears in his eyes, even though he tried to hold them back.

"Will there be a surgery?"

"They think it might damage her brain if they took it out."

Helena just nodded, got up and started to walk towards her room.

"I think I'll go to bed now. Good night dad," she said, her voice hollow from exhaustion. It took a while still before she could sleep, and from somewhere seemingly far away in the state between dreams and reality, she heard sobbing.

That night was the first night she had dreamt in a long time.


End file.
